All It Takes
by Oasis Blackmore
Summary: Discontinued. All it takes is one time to get hooked. Dasey. T for safety.
1. One Time

**A/N: This _will_ be a chaptered fic, so you are permitted to request that I continue without me reading your review with an irate countenance. Hee. I must let you know, I enjoyed writing this Christmas-spirited fic. I hope you enjoy reading.**

**All It Takes**

One Time

Casey woke up to the incessant screech of her blinking alarm clock, rubbing one eye tiredly before reaching out to turn off the cursed thing. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she sat up and stretched, realizing, as she did so, just how tense her shoulders were. Standing, she acknowledged that her restlessness the night before probably had not helped this issue. Then again, neither had anything that had occurred recently.

That weekend, she and Lizzie had gone to visit their father, which, on the one hand, was surprising and exciting and utterly wonderful but, on the other, also held the prospects of them meeting their potential stepmother, Natalie Williams. Casey had fretted about this from the start, but upon meeting her found her to be pretty, nice, funny, and not at all as uptight and, quite frankly, _evil_ as the two girls had expected. She had even brought gifts for them--two silk blouses from a fashion company, where she worked. She wanted to please them right off, Casey supposed. They had left New York reluctantly, Lizzie wanting more time with her father and Casey wanting to keep a watchful eye, just to make sure Natalie was right for him.

Since they had hopped on the plane back home, Casey hadn't been able to stop thinking--mostly worrying--about Natalie. As she had been when Nora had started seriously dating George, she was concerned, both for herself, Lizzie, and the parent involved. What if Natalie broke her father's heart? What if she turned out to be an evil witch? What if she and Nora hated one another? The list went on and on.

As if that was not enough to drive a teenager insane with anxiety, Derek, since breaking up with Kendra a few months ago--she had set a record by holding his romantic attention for almost a year--had been acting especially odd, so odd as to be deemed "sketchy." Casey wasn't sure what it was, but something about the way he had been behaving made her highly suspicious. Perhaps it was that he hadn't played a prank on her in weeks or that he kept his insults to a shocking minimum or maybe that he never tried to steal the remote--or anything she happened to be holding and didn't want him to have--from her anymore, though he always looked tempted. Or perhaps it was just that he was basically ignoring her which threw her off, though all logic told her she should have been celebrating that miracle. Logic swept under the rug, she wasn't, obviously, and she would get to the bottom of Derek's indifference toward her if it drove her nuts.

Shaking her head, she grumbled a quick, "Teenagers shouldn't have to deal with this." before moving groggily to her closet. She rifled through and pulled out the shirt she had gotten from Natalie, giving it a critical once-over before nodding in approval; it was a shimmering, white, button-up blouse, with sleeves that flared slightly at the ends. With the black jeans Casey had bought at the mall, with Emily's enthusiastic endorsement, the outfit would be perfect.

Unfortunately, the black jeans took ages to find, considering Casey had given them to her mother to wash, knowing she wouldn't have time for laundry with her trip, and her mother had put them away in some obscure place in Casey's well-organized room. By the time she found them, she was certain Derek would have slunk into the bathroom and started his shower, and, not wishing to be tardy because of her idiot stepbrother, she slipped on her clothes, applied a thin layer of makeup, brushed her hair into obedient sleekness, and went downstairs for breakfast, hardly realizing in her rush that the bathroom was empty.

"That's a cute shirt," Nora commented when Casey entered the kitchen and grabbed Derek's cereal out of the cupboard, an act symbolizing something like payback.

"Thanks. It's the one Natalie gave me," Casey replied, carefully watching her mother's face for a reaction.

"Well, it's very nice," was all the latter replied, and her expression showed nothing of any dislike for Miss Williams. _I guess I can cross Mom off my list of things to freak out about_ Casey decided.

"Yea, and you can have the pink one she gave me," Lizzie added grudgingly, and there was no need to explain; she still hadn't reached the point where she wanted to be a pink, fluffy, frilly girl, and the silk fabric probably wouldn't have lasted too long in the hands of someone who played outdoors every chance she got.

Casey nodded, mentally doubting that Lizzie's shirt would fit her and pouring her cereal into a bowl. The box was suddenly snatched out of her hands, and she looked up, outwardly angry at Derek's display of pigheadedness, and inwardly relieved that she no longer had to ponder his former mellowness. She was slightly disheartened to see Edwin standing there, looking at her disapprovingly. "Sorry, Case; Derek's cereal." He put the box back in the cupboard and pulled out his own teeth-rotting breakfast.

Casey rolled her eyes and poured herself a glass of orange juice instead. It was no wonder she was so thin; half the time she ate very little for her first meal of the day, and the other half, she didn't have time to eat anything at all.

"See you guys later," she muttered upon finishing her drink and exited the kitchen. She grabbed her book bag and put on her suede winter coat on the way out the front door, faintly puzzled as to why Derek still had not come downstairs but shrugging it off as unimportant.

As per usual, Casey was ahead of schedule. She walked to the school, shivering with cold; their town had sustained at least half a dozen inches of snow in just the past few days, and a White Christmas was almost a guarantee, especially considering this week was the last before Christmas Break.

Entering Sir John Sparrow Thompson High pushed the wintry mood even further, for it appeared that Father Christmas had upchucked all over the school. Fake snow dusted the floors, caking into little lumps with the melted snow from outside. Red and green streamers hung from the ceilings, intertwined with tinsel and the rare, but blatant enough, sprigs of mistletoe. Some teachers had hung dollar store wreaths upon their doors, and over all, the feeling was that of having overdone it.

Kicking the snow off her shoes on the inefficient mats at the door, Casey headed toward her locker, surprised when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out as she swerved around a huddled group of her classmates, she answered it with a hurried, "Hello?"

"Hey, Case." It was her mother. "I just remembered that George and I have something special planned for the family today, so we need you home by four. If you see Derek, could you tell him?"

"Isn't he still there?" Casey asked after glancing at the time depicted on a large clock hanging from the wall. Derek typically had Sam, who had received his license recently, drive him to school, so he didn't have to brave the cold; Casey, wanting to spend as little time with Derek--especially dormant Derek--as possible, even if it meant freezing to death, always declined the offer and made a point to leave before Sam showed up. They weren't due to have left the house yet.

"No." Nora's confusion traveled to Casey's ears. "He left before you got up; he said there was morning hockey practice before this week's game."

"Oh." Casey berated herself for missing a good, hot shower because of her false assumptions. "Well, I'll let him know, if I see him," she agreed.

"Thanks. Have a good day, and remember: _by four_."

"Okay. Bye." Casey hung up as she spotted Emily. She waved her over, and they walked to their lockers. Emily gave her friend a compliment on the pre-approved jeans, catching sight of the shirt and praising it, as well. They reached the junior locker hall, and immediately, the conversation shifted to Derek upon their arrival at their lockers.

"You'll never guess what Derek's doing." Emily's preamble was nonexistent and her eagerness to talk about Derek poorly masked.

"Something stupid?" Casey inquired dryly, shaking her combination lock in frustration as she realized she had put in the wrong numbers. Emily recoiled slightly at her biting tone. "Sorry, Em. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Go ahead." _If you must._

That, of course, was all the invitation Emily needed to go off on some harangue on how Derek and his hockey buddies were lining up girls in the senior hall to see how many . . . Casey stopped hearing the tirade around the first "Derek" and instead endeavored to remember her locker combination. For the life of her, she couldn't get it straight. _12-30-2 or 30-2-12? Maybe it's 12-20-3._ Typically, she wasn't quite so spacey, but that morning, her brain just didn't seem to be functioning.

As if by clockwork, she managed to get the right code just as Emily ended with a breathless, "Isn't that messed up?"

"Yea, definitely," Casey agreed distractedly, opening the lock and lifting the door handle.

"Sad thing is, I was thinking of going over there," Emily admitted almost coyly.

Casey didn't get a chance to respond before she realized what was happening. The top shelf of her locker, small though it was, held a bucket of what appeared to be spaghetti sauce, which had been leaning against the door. When Casey opened it, the bucket tipped, and Casey was instantaneously drenched in red. She let out a gasp of shock and disgust as the icy mix hit her square in the chest, covering the fronts of her expensive jacket and new, equally expensive, shirt and coating the ends of her hair.

"Oh my God," Emily breathed as she covered her mouth with her hand, reluctant amusement plain on her face, though she looked horrified, as well.

Casey was speechless. She stared down at the soiled clothing for a moment or two, the snickers and whispering of the people who had observed the scene sinking in. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. "_Derek_," she growled. "Senior hall?"

"Yea," Emily responded automatically, not realizing just how awful this was going to be for her crush until Casey slammed her locker shut and hurled her bag over her shoulder, nearly slipping in the sauce that had landed on the floor as she spun in the direction she was headed. "Casey, come on. It was just a joke!" Emily consoled frantically, hurrying after her irate best friend.

"These. Clothes. Are _ruined_!" Casey snapped in response.

"It's not his fault anyway! _I_ gave him your locker combo!" Emily disclosed.

Casey halted, whirling to face her. "You _what_!?"

Emily balked. "He said he was going to give you a Christmas present!"

"You _believed_ him!?"

"_You_ said he was being tolerable!" Emily defended desperately.

"_Tolerable_, Em! Not a different person!"

"I'm _sorry_! I didn't think he would--"

"I'm not blaming you, okay? I'm blaming _him_, and he is _not_ getting away with this." Casey resumed stalking to the senior hallway, a resigned Emily tagging along. "Can you imagine what they're going to call me now?" she asked aloud, indignant tone not covering the hurt she felt at having to bear the brunt of the other kids' torment.

They turned a corner, the crowd of people getting larger, the laughter and pointing louder and more obvious. Casey spotted Derek's unruly mop behind a group of hockey jocks and dodged the milling students in her way; most of them chuckled as she passed.

Naturally, her anger caused her to be oblivious as to what was going on around her. All she saw was Derek, who had his back to her. Of course, she didn't pause to wonder just why he was standing in the middle of the hallway, his jock friends encircling him and cheering every so often. No. She didn't see the precariously hung mistletoe just above him. She didn't hear Emily's perceptive gasp or feel her friend's hand on her shoulder before she shrugged it off. "Casey! Wait!" Perhaps if Casey had been paying attention to anything but the boy she loved to hate, she would have called him over instead of storming right up to him, but this was not the case.

She grabbed Derek's arm as she reached him, the calls of, "Get in line!" from some of the other students going unheard.

"Hey, what's your prob--" Derek's question faded into a laugh as he recognized her and slapped on his trademark smirk. "Well, that's a nice look on you," he complimented deviously, gratified by his friends' guffaws.

"Shut up, Derek," Casey spat, shaking with anger, her nails digging into his arm. "Because of _you_, the shirt I got from my_ dad's_ new girlfriend is _ruined_!"

Derek let out another chuckle. "Is _that_ all? Come on; lighten up." He tried to shake her hand off, but she held fast. His expression changed from that of amusement to irritation.

"My _sixty dollar_ jacket is _trashed_!" she snarled.

Annoyed about being scolded and Casey's somewhat painful grasp on his arm, Derek narrowed his eyes. "God forbid."

His sarcasm only made her angrier. "You _will_ pay me back. _In_._ Full_!"

"Sorry, Case. No can do. I'm not paying just because _you_ can't make pasta." Derek's eyes glinted warningly.

"_Derek_." Casey's stone-cold glare wasn't in the least bit relenting. Their gazes locked and scalded one another.

"Hey, Derek. We can't stand here all day, ya know," a female voice warned from behind Derek suddenly, breaking the spell.

"Yea. You need to kiss her and move to the next girl," someone else pitched in.

"What!?" Casey barked, instantly aware of her surroundings. She peered around Derek at the line of girls behind him, all looking equally impatient to get whatever they had been waiting for. "_Kiss_?"

Even Derek appeared shaken as he said in a low voice, "Look up, Princess."

Casey looked at him confusedly, and he nodded upward. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, and her stomach lurched. _Mistletoe._ She glanced back at Derek, dropping his arm and shaking her head fervently. "No. There is _no way_ I'm kissing Derek," she insisted.

"Fine. Then leave so we can have our turns!" the girl who had interrupted earlier ordered.

"No. It's the rules," one of the jocks pointed out. "She _has_ to kiss him."

"I didn't even know the mistletoe was there!" Casey cried, the tomato stain on her clothing now the least of her worries as she backed away from her stepbrother.

Someone on the outskirts of the crowd pushed her back toward him, and she barely caught her balance by leaning against him, which she hastily refrained from doing as soon as she was on her own two feet.

"Guys, come on," Derek tried, giving his buddies a helpless look. "Do I _really_ have to kiss this loser?"

Casey shot him a glare, secretly hurt by his words. "We're stepsiblings!" she added, and a few people nodded in understanding. _Damn him for being the coolest guy in school. Is _everyone_ watching?_ Indeed, it appeared so, for a thick crowd had gathered around them; this fact made everything a bit more awkward.

"It's the rules," the same rule-conscientious jock repeated.

Derek touched her arm to get her attention. "Let's just get it over with," he offered, though he looked as disturbed by the notion as Casey felt.

He stepped toward her, and she was heedful of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized that she was rooted to the spot. He leaned in, eyes wide open, and she saw the emotion in them; it was something like surrender. She frowned at this, but all comprehension was lost when his lips brushed hers, coaxing warmth to every nerve in her body before he jerked away a second later. Somewhere in that second, she realized, she had closed her eyes, and she snapped them open, hearing laughter in the crowd and the occasional, "Gross.", which probably pertained to their stepsibling relationship.

Derek was watching her with a blank expression, and their eyes met; there was an unfamiliar gleam in his that puzzled her to the core.

Dragging his gaze away, he smirked. "That's number thirty-six, boys," he called cockily, pivoting to face the enthusiastic girls in line. "Next!"

Casey felt her cheeks burning and stepped backwards, oddly stunned when a wall of students blocked her progress. Blinking, she turned to scan the horde, spotting Emily, who had a furious countenance. _Great. She probably thinks I _wanted_ to do that._

Randomly, she remembered her mother's request, and she spouted it at Derek, who had just finished kissing another girl. He didn't turn to look at her but instead nodded his head, his coldness telling her it was time to go; why she had thought the message from home would make everything better was beyond her, for it certainly made her feel worse by reminding her just who Derek was.

Shoving her way through the mob, Casey made a point to avoid Emily and get out alive. She didn't care that her clothes were stained or that people were staring at her, pointing, whispering, laughing; she didn't even note that she was on fire. The most disconcerting thing about what had just happened was that she almost wished it would happen again. Of course, _that_ was completely ridiculous.

**A/N: Again, this is _not_ a oneshot, dearies. I wasn't sure about the spelling of "Thompson" either; it could be "Thomson," I guess. Anyway, review if you like.**

**Post Script: Happy Christmas! Or Merry Christmas! Or Happy Hanukah! Or Happy Kwanzaa! _Or_ Happy Holidays! I like the last best, for modern idiocy demands that we always be politically correct.**


	2. Monologue

**A/N: I want this fic to be as LWDistic as possible (and I've always wanted to write a chaptered Dasey in extended episode format), so the beginning of this chapter will heretofore represent the cut-scene that occurs just after the Life with Derek theme song. Naturally, it will be slightly--only slightly, I believe, since I didn't time the show's monologue or this rendition and thus have only approximation to go off--longer than your typical Casey monologue, but you get the idea. After, we'll be moving into the main plot and such, so yea . . . Enjoy.**

Monologue

_There are two kinds of people in today's world. One kind, the kind _I_ like to call the "good kind," is the kind that will promote the future. This kind is organized, selfless, caring, and always willing to react _calmly _to crises arising in the world. This kind is made up of people like Mom, Lizzie and me. We all know how to respond when put in a delicate situation, which, if handled incorrectly, could end humanity, as we know it. We can stand up to a problem and say, "This is wrong. Let's fix it." Then, we follow through, patching holes, replacing old parts, etcetera. When we're done, we can rest easy, knowing that we have done the right thing._

_The _other_ kind is much less productive. This kind is carefree, irresponsible, selfish, and willing to ignore any situation that causes discomfort. Obviously, _Derek_ epitomizes this kind. I bet he doesn't even know what that word _means_. Derek's more of your typical don't-look-at-me guy, even though he strives for attention. When there's an urgent problem, rest assured that _Derek_ will disappear. He and his kind have the power of carelessness. He can turn cold at any moment, and this gives him control._

_Well, that's _not_ going to work this time. _Derek_ can't ignore whatever's nagging at him forever, especially with my kind around, especially since he got _me_ involved. _My_ kind doesn't just let life-altering events--_mistakes_ blow past without taking note of them. Derek will have to face me sooner or later, whether he likes it or not._

Casey had somehow managed to get through the day without feeling too humiliated--well, other than the fact that she kept recalling that she had kissed her stepbrother in front of the majority of the student body and that Emily wasn't speaking to her. She had been relieved of her deprecating appearance by the sweatshirt she kept in her locker for occasions such as these. Perhaps it was a bit paranoid, but apparently, it had paid off. She had managed to wash most of the sauce out of her hair and off her neck and shirt before heading to first period, feeling slightly damp, sticky, and flustered, and the day had progressed as such.

Exiting the high school was like stepping out of prison, a feeling Casey had never quite experienced in relation to said haven of hers. She hurried home, anxious to get out of her clothing and into a clean outfit.

Uttering a rushed, "Hi, Liz," to her sister, who was amicably arguing with Edwin over some television show, Casey sprinted up the stairs and to her bedroom, where she pulled off the silk top and put on an enjoyably clean T-shirt before heading to the bathroom to get a shower.

She descended the stairs forty-five minutes later feeling almost totally relaxed. That blessed feeling, of course, vanished when she spotted Derek sitting in his chair, eyes riveted to T.V. screen.

She hesitated a tad in the middle of the flight of stairs, no longer certain she wanted to be on the ground floor. _It would probably be safer in my room._ Furrowing her brows, she silently chastised herself; Derek was not to be feared. _He's just Derek!_ She took another step, and the stairs creaked.

Intrigued by the noise, Derek turned to look at who was approaching. His inquisitive gaze hardened slightly as he saw that it was Casey, and he faced the hockey game again.

Other than the cheers and referee whistling from the T.V., the house was oddly silent as Casey fully entered the living room, boldly plopping down on the couch.

Derek didn't even spare her a glance.

"Where is everyone?" Casey ventured, hoping the tightness in her voice wasn't audible.

"Dunno," Derek muttered.

"Did they go out without us?" she persisted, watching a muscle in his jaw clench. _So, this _isn't_ easy for the Almighty Derek._

He shrugged this time, never looking at her.

"Did they say when they'd be back?" Casey already felt drained from the strength it took not to break down and start rambling on about the mistletoe incident. Goodness knew it was on her mind.

"_No._" Derek's clipped tone illustrated his wish for silence, especially from her.

Irritated and wanting answers, she huffed and resisted the urge to reach out and grab the remote from him, and, knowing that physical contact was probably not the best solution to her problems, considering she had been practically obsessing over one recently-initiated form of "contact," she managed to fold her arms over her chest and settle for watching the hockey game.

This seemed to annoy Derek even more, for he shifted uneasily in his chair for the next twenty minutes.

Casey watched him out of the corner of her eye, silently laughing at him. He couldn't pretend he didn't feel the awkward tension circulating between them anymore than she could.

Derek stood up suddenly, casually chucking the remote at her before retreating up the stairs and to his bedroom. Casey barely caught the device, preventing it from hitting her in the head, and she frowned at his back as he left. Maybe this whole conflict was irking him more than he was willing to show.

Casey was debating going up to talk to him when the sound of keys turning in the knob on the front door reached her ears. She looked up as the door opened, and George entered, carrying Marti on his shoulders, with Nora, Edwin, and Lizzie in tow; they were all holding grocery bags.

They looked so happy to be one, big family. Casey's guilt struck. _I kissed my stepbrother!_ Trying to stifle the impending blush from appearing on her cheeks, she stood up and smiled. "Hi, guys!"

"Hey, Casey," George replied, sounding breathless as he put Marti down in Derek's chair. "Would you mind getting the rest of the stuff out of the car?"

Casey responded that she wouldn't and walked outside, where it had started snowing again. She shivered as she lifted the remaining bags out of the backseat of the car and shut the door. In her hurry to escape the cold, she didn't notice Derek peering down at her from his bedroom window, a troubled look marring his otherwise handsome features.

He had been pacing in his room from the moment he had shut the door. _I'm driving myself crazy! If I annoy her, we fight. If I ignore her, she pouts that sexy, full-lipped, seductive--**hold it**! Remember the Vow, Venturi. _

The Vow . . . It was true that his attitude toward Casey had taken a drastic turn since he had broken up with Kendra; he had made it do so on purpose. It wasn't that he didn't like tormenting Casey, arguing with her, and getting her so riled up that she ran out of the room in her anger, though he preferred when she stayed and fought back. He loved it. He loved seeing her pent-up frustration bursting to the surface as she screamed at him, finding his own release when he yelled back. He relished the way her eyes lit up when she was completely pissed off, the way her voice jumped an octave when she was getting beyond upset. It was addicting; from the moment their first fight had erupted, Derek had known it was something he would never want to give up. Casey was a challenge, of both her own free will and when she conflicted with his. Derek liked challenges. Thus, against his wishes and what little better judgment he had, he liked Casey; even when he was pretending to hate her, he liked her. He was drawn to her, entranced by her, and infuriated by the fact that it was impossible and hopeless.

Kendra had offered distraction. He could kiss her and flirt with her and date her, while still being contingent on the satisfaction he got from his and Casey's constant bickering. Kendra was a nice girl, if not a bit needy and clingy. He could tolerate the pet names and her sloppy kisses, even the occasional P.D.A. she inflicted upon him, but it was _she_ who had finally tired of him. Maybe she had seen through his forced feelings for her. Maybe not. Whatever it was, she had called it off, contrary to common belief.

Derek had been devastated, though, being who he was, he masked it well. With no girlfriend to stave off his needs, certain tensions would grow, and certain occurrences would be inevitable. That was where the Vow came in. He had written it down somewhere, placing the inscription someplace secret and hidden, but he knew it by heart. In the hopes that it would keep him from jumping his stepsister at the climax of their next heated argument, he had sworn, _I, Derek Venturi, will maintain a civil, but distant relationship with my **stepsister**,_ (he had made sure to ingrain that fact in his mind, hoping against hope that morality would for once override impulse) _Casey MacDonald. No favors. No argument-causing insults. No pranks. **No physical contact**. No obsessing._

His prank on Casey that morning had been his Christmas gift to himself. He had wanted to hear her scream at him. He'd _tried_ resisting, but to no avail. It had been sheer luck that when he had uttered an almost embarrassed, "Christmas present." to Emily, when requesting Casey's locker combination, that the smitten girl had thought he had meant to give one to Casey; he had actually almost corrected her mistake before realizing that he was going soft and, in turn, calmly lied--again--to his first, female friend.

It was Derek's misfortune that Casey had chosen to confront him when he was in the middle of the dare his team had inflicted upon him after hockey practice that morning. _"You should see how many girls will kiss you under the mistletoe!" "Yea, dude! I bet on fifty before first period starts." _Who knew how many orally transmitted diseases he had caught from that particular endeavor? Then again, chances were, he had caught them long ago. For a guy who disliked public display of affection, he could certainly manage to woo girls with his kiss. Even Casey had been dazed, from the controlled, brief brush of the lips he had allowed himself to give her. He recalled the cloudy, lusty look that had materialized in her eyes, just before they had fluttered closed and how she had leaned into his kiss, probably involuntarily. She could have no idea how hard it had been for him not to crush her against his chest and drag her into the nearest, empty classroom instead of pulling away and exuding cockiness as he turned to kiss another dozen girls, none of whom would be who he wanted. If there was one thing to be learned from this experience, it was extensive self-control.

_But I don't _want_ to have self-control! _Letting out a snarl of frustration, Derek turned away from the window, collapsing face-first on his bed. "Why me?" he whined into his pillows, contemplating suffocating himself then and there. It was plain that his stupid "feelings" were going to do just that anyway.

There was a knock at his door, and he froze, praying that it wasn't Casey coming up to talk to him.

"Smerek!" Marti opened his door and bounded into his room, all smiles. She climbed up on his bed, her excitement getting the better of her growing maturity. "Come downstairs and play with us!"

Derek lifted himself up on his elbows and looked at her. "What are we playing, Smarti?"

"Anything we want!" Marti announced gleefully, grabbing one of his arms and hopping off his bed. "Nora says it's a game night!"

Grudgingly, Derek allowed his baby sister to pull him into the hallway and down the stairs; a family game night to him wasn't nearly as exciting as it was to her, especially factoring in that he would have to compete against Casey without allowing his competitive nature to overtake him, a task that would be highly displeasing.

"I picked the first game," George declared as Derek took his seat, holding up the miniature, green car that was his game piece for the game of Life.

As they played, Derek noted how ironic it was that nowhere did it say:

**Fall in Love with Someone You Shouldn't Have**

**Move Back to Start**

_But I'm not "in love" with Casey. I don't believe in it_ he reminded himself agitatedly.

"Your turn, Derek," Casey said sharply, curious about the introspective look on his face.

Derek scowled at her tone and spun the dial in the center of the board. Casey, who was the police officer, smugly charged him for going over ten spaces.

George won that game, cheering as he counted the money on the back of his Life tiles. "I win!" he gloated childishly.

"_I_ want to pick the next game!" Marti proclaimed.

Candyland went by fairly quickly, and everyone let Marti win.

They then endured two rounds of Clue, the first chosen by Edwin and the second by Lizzie. Casey, sitting opposite Derek, with Nora seated in between them, had the satisfaction of disproving Derek's suggestions countless times, much to his frustration, even though getting the answers right every time he guessed wasn't the point of the game.

Nora decided that the next game was going to be Monopoly. However, that endeavor didn't last long, considering no one could get hotels because their houses had already been purchased, a fact that was complained about until George suggested Casey pick a game.

"Scrabble," she said without hesitation.

"Of course," Derek grumbled in a vitriolic manner, both trying to be mildly irksome and unhappy that he was sure to lose. Casey shot him a glare as Marti clambered up the stairs to get the game out of the game's closet.

Casey won, as was to be expected, around six o' clock, and Derek chose a game of 1313 Dead End Drive.

By the time they ended that game, it was already seven, and everyone was getting hungry. George got up to order a pizza, while the others, excepting Derek, cleared the table.

"You _could _help, you know," Casey snapped at him, setting the plates down in front of him with a slight clatter, her elbow brushing his shoulder, and he jumped away from her in surprise, not even managing a provocative comeback. She raised an eyebrow before rounding the table, a thoughtful smirk on her lips. "You sure are jumpy," she noted before breezing into the kitchen to get the glasses and napkins.

Derek took a deep breath when she was gone, telling himself to calm down. Of course, it probably would have helped if Casey didn't live in the same house. Or neighborhood. Or town. Perhaps the same country was still a bit too close.

Casey came back to find the plates set around the table, though Derek was nowhere in sight, and she rotated her shoulder in an attempt to rid herself of the tingling feeling in her elbow. _This is ridiculous_ she thought irritably as she set napkins next to each of the plates. _I barely touched him, and he freaked out._

Derek showed up just as the pizza arrived, and he sat down at the table across from Casey, who watched him covertly. He appeared normal, but his eyes darted about in a very panicky way, looking any and everywhere but at Casey. _He's nervous._

"So," Nora began as everyone tucked into their meals. "How was school today?" The question was directed at Casey, who chewed her bite before answering.

"Actually," she started around her food, her tone indicating that good news was not in the follow-up. "_Derek_ ruined it." Derek paused mid-bite, blanching. She shot him a quick puzzled look as she swallowed.

George perked up at this, turning on Derek while asking Casey, "He did, did he?"

Casey was unnerved by Derek's fearful, almost pleading look. She scowled at him, discarding her impending, concerned frown. "He put _spaghetti sauce_ in my locker, and it spilled all over my new, sixty-dollar coat, _and_ the shirt that Natalie gave me."

Marti clapped, laughing at the mental image of Casey as a spaghetti monster.

Derek blinked, as if surprised by her declaration, and his face cleared of all but smugness. He met her gaze across the table, sporting the confident smirk she hadn't seen in months.

_He thought I was going to tell them about . . ._ Casey nodded distractedly along with her mother, who was insisting that George remedy the situation, but she couldn't look away from Derek, whose cold countenance was slowly faltering. Edwin kicked Lizzie under the table, gesturing to the intent stare the teens were sharing.

As suddenly as the connection had been made, Casey broke it, aware of a rising feeling of _something_ in her chest. She excused herself, unnoticed in the heat of George and Nora scolding an apathetic Derek, who exerted every ounce of willpower not to follow her with his eyes.

Hurrying up the stairs, Casey halted only upon closing her bedroom door, breathing heavily as she leaned against it. Something about the way Derek was behaving was messing with her. _That's probably what he's trying to do: mess with me._

She sank to the floor, pressing her cold hands against her burning cheeks. The knot in her stomach refused to go away, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. "This isn't fair," she muttered as soon as the guilt from the day's events bombarded her. She knew she had to call Emily, her best and pretty much _only_ friend and patch things up, but she didn't know how to explain what had happened, especially considering that now she was noticing a significant tension around Derek that certainly wouldn't have been there had the mistletoe exchange been meaningless. _It's just because we're stepsiblings_ she assured herself, though that wasn't exactly consoling. Letting out a sigh, she stood and grabbed her cell phone from her desk, pressing the speed dial for Emily's cell.

**A/N: Well, now you know Derek's dirty little secret. It's oh-so unexpected, no? Pfft. No, is right; it's _very_ expected. But anyway, I plan on this being under ten chapters. I'm not sure about the exact number yet, but somewhere around five, I'm thinking. Review if you like! -cut to commercial break-**


	3. To Tango

**A/N: I'M BACK!!! . . . Jeez, no one's here. You've all deserted me and my update-shy ways!!! -sobs-**

**I know, I've been the hugest procrastinator/slacker/not-updating . . . er ever. It's been nearly five months (January fifth was a _long_ time ago) since my last update, but I'm posting two chapters at once to make up for it (meaning I'm also _hugely_ sorry). If things go my way, I'll be posting another chapter of this fic, another chapter of my ****HP**** fic, two Dasey oneshots, a ****Pirates of the Caribbean**** oneshot (OscarMikeGolf, At World's End was awesome -grins-), and a ****Drake & Josh**** oneshot (the last was what officially ended the wrath of writer's constipation--it's the worst kind, people) in the near future, as well. Please note, things **_**have**_** been going my way, so far--knock on wood. I'd like to say that you can all thank Summer (though it hasn't **_**officially **_**arrived yet) and Rupert for this update, Summer being that which I believe to have lead to the end of my writer's block and given me time to write, and Rupert being my new laptop, named after my personal muse, Rupert Grint. Okay, okay, on with the update, _finally_!**

To Tango

"That coat cost _sixty _dollars, George!" Nora snapped across the table, angry that Casey had been upset enough to flee the room and that Derek had been immature enough to pull such a prank.

"_Nora_, I'm sure Derek didn't expect Casey to be wearing her new coat," George reasoned, his disciplinary fervor having died. "Right, Derek?"

Derek, leaning back in his chair, with his fingers laced behind his head, nodded carelessly in affirmation.

"And he's sorry; _right_?" George urged.

"Sure," Derek replied, ignoring Nora's piercing gaze.

"And he'll pay Casey back tonight."

"Ye--wait. What!?" Derek sat up and dropped his arms, shocked that his own flesh and blood would say such a thing. The younger children around the table stared at George in awe; he had never shown such wrath where Derek was concerned.

"Is there a problem?" Nora asked, pleased by her husband's declaration but still irritated by Derek's attitude.

"Uh, _yeah_! You can't--"

"_Derek_," George warned, obviously hoping this parenting fiasco would end sooner rather than later.

"Come _on_," Derek griped. "She doesn't need an expensive coat anyway."

Nora's proud look fell as her husband muttered in agreement, but her raised eyebrow reversed the turn of his words. "No, Derek; you played your prank; now, you have to pay the price--literally."

"Dad, seriously. Even if I _had_ money, which I don't, I wouldn't be wasting it on _Casey_. This punishment is a little harsh; don'tcha think?"

"Pouring spaghetti sauce on your sister--"

"Stepsister," Derek interjected without thinking, unaware of the perceptive look Edwin and Lizzie briefly shared.

"That's the problem, Derek," Nora began, and Derek sat back with a sigh, bracing himself for the soon-to-be-ignored lecture; he knew what they were going to say anyway: "Treat Casey more like a sister." They didn't--_couldn't_--know that that was simply impossible.

By the end of the speech, George had taken over, and Lizzie and Edwin had excused themselves, ushering Marti upstairs with them.

"Got it, Derek?" George demanded sternly.

"Yeah," Derek capitulated grudgingly.

"Good. Now, take this--" George pulled out his billfold and handed Derek sixty dollars, apparently oblivious to Nora's appalled expression. "--And go tell your _sister_ you're sorry."

Derek exhaled irritably and took the cash, heading up the stairs; he barely heard his dad's, "He'll pay me back."

_Sure_ he scoffed, glancing at the bills in his hand. As he walked down the hall, he planned what he would say upon entering Casey's room. _Act natural. She's just your . . . sister._ The very attempt at normalcy made him shudder, for he had worked very hard, upon accepting--and thoroughly analyzing--his opinion of Casey, to convince himself that he wasn't some sick, incestuous freak.

He reached her door and paused, gathering himself. Never had he had to struggle so much just to comfortably speak to a girl, especially one to whom he was attracted.

It was then, as his fist hovered in front of the door, that he heard Casey's laugh, a sound, which normally sent jolts of electricity through his body. This, however, was not cheerful or mocking--the latter being more common in what he usually heard; it was dry, forced, like one perhaps shoved into a conversation to lighten the mood. Derek lowered his hand and quietly pressed his ear to the door.

"Come on, Em. He's _Derek_!" Casey was saying, a certain note of incredulity in her voice letting on that the subject was an easily debatable, highly unpleasant one and that she was only enduring it to make a point. "You know that's not true . . . _Ew_! I enjoy getting shampoo in my eyes more than kissing him." Derek winced. _Harsh, MacDonald._ "I didn't have a choice!" He let out a snort that he hoped was inaudible. Casey's obvious denial of the situation made it much easier for him to procure indifference, and he was nearly grateful. "No, I wouldn't . . . do it again." She sounded irate. "Emily, how could you think it was an attack against you? You're my_ best friend_!" Derek cringed at the sudden, tearful catch in her voice. "You're going to make me promise," she stated in disbelief. Derek gingerly stepped closer to the door. "This is ridiculous! I would never--" Would but he could hear the entire conversation. "I know you have a crush on him; that's exactly why I--" She let out a heated sigh, and he could practically see her running a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself. "_Other_ than the fact that we're stepsiblings." The groan of the bedsprings reached his ears before the muffled sound of her pacing danced through the wood of the door. "Fine. I'll promise . . . I, Casey MacDonald, solemnly swear that . . ." Derek didn't think he could bear to hear her dash away what little, insane hope he had; Emily's demand was ultimately his fault.

"What are you doing?"

At Lizzie's curious inquiry, Derek jumped away from the door, the definition of guilty-looking, but recovered his confidence, dignity and facade with a casual, "Just going in." He twisted the knob and pushed the door, his loud entry causing Casey to pivot to face him, furious physiognomy in place. He had not enough time to see the hasty uncrossing of her fingers, as he was slightly more preoccupied with making sure that his head-shaking, little sister Lizzie was on her way down the stairs.

"DER-EK!" Casey yelled, covering the mouthpiece of her cell phone with her hand. Even her anger couldn't conceal the florid blush on her cheeks. "Have you ever heard of _knocking_?"

"Yeah, about a billion times, from you. But hey, all the more reason not to do it, right?" Derek offered a taunting smile, mentally noting his lack of practice as he innocently shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and gave his stepsister an expectant look.

Glaring in response, Casey uncovered the phone. "Sorry, Em. He just barged into my room--"

"Talking about me, are we?" Derek interrupted cockily, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow.

"Can I call you back later?" Casey continued with an eye roll. "Yes. I promise nothing will happen . . ." She glanced at him apprehensively. "Yeah. Okay. Bye." She hung up and crossly turned her full attention on him, a feeling he decided epitomized--he had, indeed, learned the meaning of the word in his English class--enjoyable. "What do you want?"

Covertly tucking the money in his shirt pocket, he chose to indulge himself. "So, who's nothing happening with?" he queried.

"What do you want?" Casey cocked one hip to the side in impatience, flouting his question altogether.

"Do you and Emily _always_ talk about me, or just most of the time?" Derek persisted as he reached back and closed the door.

"_Derek_," Casey growled threateningly.

"No, really," Derek pressed pseudo-sincerely, sauntering in her direction before turning, at last, to sit on her bed. "How obsessed _are_ you?"

Casey narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not as obsessed with you as you are," she responded. "Or at all," she added as something of an afterthought, inwardly kicking herself for the immaturity of her former statement; the kindergarten-oriented "I know you are, but what am I?" came to mind. The months that had passed since their last episode of pointless banter seemed to have weakened both their attacks.

"I meant 'you' as a group," Derek elucidated. "_You_ may not be obsessed with me, but _Emily_--"

"You leave Emily alone!" Casey barked, eyes flashing dangerously.

Derek held his hands up in surrender. "_Okay_. Calm down . . . Sheesh." He popped his collar and suppressed a laugh of relief; banter made everything seem so familiar.

Casey took a deep breath. "You already messed everything up anyway," she grumbled, setting her phone on her desk.

"How did _I_ mess everything up?" Derek stared at her petulantly.

"What? Now you _want_ to talk, Mister Cold and Silent?" Casey bit back, not comfortable in the hot seat.

"Sure, _Case_." Derek's sarcastic tone made her blood boil. "Let's 'talk'." Casey pursed her lips at his air quotes.

"Fine; you start. Let's hear about _you_." She sat in her chair, happy to get the upper hand, however temporarily.

"You know this isn't about me," Derek declared haughtily. "It's about us."

Casey gaped at him, appalled by his statement. "_Us_?" she demanded, voice tight.

"Us. You and me. Plural. Not singular. Two-sided. Need I go on?" He gave her a bogus half-smile.

"What happened today was _not_ my fault!" Casey raged, wondering why she'd wanted to discuss this with him in the first place.

Derek nodded skeptically. "Oh, right. _Your_ lips aren't connected to _you_."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Really. Then what _did_ you mean? It takes two to tango, _Princess_." He reclined against the headboard, looking as debonair as ever.

Casey's mind flashed back to when he had last called her by that name, and she flushed. "What was I _supposed_ to do? _Your_ stupid friends wouldn't let me leave."

"No one can make _you_ do something you don't want to do." Derek watched Casey's expression go from angry to angrier with satisfaction.

"You think I _wanted_ to--to--You arrogant _pig_!" She sprang to her feet, trembling with fury. "You are the last person _Earth_ that I would enjoy ki--ki--" Unable to finish, she shook her head and discarded the thought. "Besides, you didn't stop it either, so--"

"_I_ didn't stop it because it was the rules," Derek interrupted defensively, realizing that, in his endeavor to bug his stepsister, he had wandered into precisely the conversation he had wished to avoid.

"Rules?" Casey snorted cynically. "You never paid attention to them before. Why was today any diff--"

"_Most_ rules don't increase my cool," Derek explained before she was able to form any detrimental conclusions.

"So, tell me," Casey began, taking her seat again, more at ease when the focus was removed from her. "Do you think submitting to peer pressure is 'cool'?"

With a flash of his teeth, Derek sat up, tilting his head to the side as he studied her. "Only if it's fun."

Casey wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You don't even _like_ public display of affection," she pointed out dryly.

Derek laughed derisively. "It's not P.D.A. if I don't have _affection_ for the girls." It was obvious that he meant Casey.

"They wouldn't even_ kid_ themselves," she shot back, affronted in spite of herself. "And you can rest easy, knowing that none of _them_ feel anything for _you_." In the heat of the discussion, neither noticed the peculiarity of the direction it had taken.

Derek's smirk took on wry twist, but he kept alive and gave a terse nod. "That's good to know."

Casey angled her chin defiantly. "I'm sure it is." She paused, as if contemplating saying more, but she overrode the inclination and continued with a huffy, "Are you leaving, or what?"

Derek rolled his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and looking at her, scrutinizing her. After a moment, he said, "You should come down and eat dinner. What'd you have? Like, _one_ piece of pizza?"

Casey raised an eyebrow. "I only had one and half because, thanks to _someone_, I lost my appetite." She glowered at him before her resolve wavered. "Why?"

Derek shrugged. "No reason," he declared, rising to his feet and striding to the door. "Except . . ." He turned around, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You look kind of like you just got out of a concentration camp."

"Ugh! Derek, you're such a jerk! I can't stand--" Casey's rant was cut off when Derek clicked her door shut, smiling contentedly. Never mind that he had completely ignored his original purpose in coming to her room. _I'm an addict._ It was enough to make him feel prodigiously pathetic, and he was increasingly aware of the niggling, guilty sensation that was driving him nuts.


	4. Emotions of the Eye

Emotions of the Eye

Casey knit her brow as a disappointed emotion pooled inside her. She almost regretted that Derek had departed so soon. Almost, though it _was_ somehow relieving to be arguing with him in a way she hadn't since just after he had broken up with Kendra.

Taking a deep breath, she dragged her fingers through her hair, the memory of their last real argument causing her cheeks to burn.

_"So, Derek, how was school today?" Nora asked in her usual, laid-back manner._

_Derek ducked his head and politely asked Casey for the peas._

_Casey passed them, an inquisitive look masking her surprise at his brief utterance of the word "please." She had heard the day's gossip about Derek, most of it from the ever-obsessed Emily. _

_"All right," Nora acquiesced knowingly, turning to her eldest daughter. "How was _your _day?"_

_"Well, I _did_ hear an interesting rumor," Casey offered menacingly, eyes on Derek; for her, this torment was vindication for how much he had been heckling her as of late, mostly about how she and Sam had gotten back together after nine happy months of being completely broken up._

_Derek set his jaw but said nothing._

_"About Derek," Casey continued when the others made no inquiry as to the nature of this gossip._

_"And it's completely true," Derek supplied in a low voice, looking up from his plate to glare at Casey. The latter was slightly taken aback by the aberrant look of unadulterated hatred in his eyes. _

_"Well, now we _have_ to hear what it is," George joked, trying in vain to ease the sudden tension as his wife's eyes darted anxiously between their eldest; everyone was anticipating an explosion._

_"Oh, uh, it . . . it doesn't matter. I was just . . . just kidding," Casey stuttered, not having meant to actually hurt Derek with her words._

_"_Okay_ . . ." George warily accepted._

_There was a thick pause before Derek blurted, "Kendra and I are over," with his eyes riveted on Casey._

_Nora choked on her food. "Over?" she repeated; she had nearly come to believe that Derek and Kendra were going to last forever, that he had fizzled out of his girl-using phase._

_Derek tore his eyes from his stepsister just as she looked at him. "Yeah, we broke up," he rephrased unaffectedly._

_"Whoa . . ." Edwin intoned, his glance at Lizzie indicating that they were going to seriously discuss this in comparison with their former research later. He cleared his throat. "So," he said casually, "Why'd you end it?"_

_Derek's gaze dropped to his plate. "Got tired of her," he uttered, but Casey's pair of blue boring into the top of his head told that she knew he was lying. _

_Nora raised her eyebrows disapprovingly and gave George a pointed look, obviously in reference to Derek's treatment of the opposite sex, as Casey let out a scornful breath. "It figures you would treat her like some toy you got sick of," she scoffed, humoring him._

_Derek rolled his averted eyes, looking unsettled._

_"It's low, even for you," Casey provoked, wanting to get him riled up so they could go back to their normal, back-and-forth repartee and cast off his seeming indifference._

_"Don't worry, Smerek!" Marti chimed in. "You'll get another girlfriend!"_

_"Yeah, so you can break yet another innocent heart," Casey added meanly, becoming more irked by the second; this was odd, especially considering he wasn't even doing anything._

_Derek raised his eyes to her, looking bored but somewhat incensed, before getting up and leaving the room._

_"Derek!" George called. "You need to excuse yourself!"_

_"Excuse. Fucking. Me!" Derek hollered over his shoulder, reaching the top of the stairs and heading to his room, where he slammed the door shut._

_"George!" Nora exclaimed, appalled that George wasn't reacting to this outburst; Marti, after all, was only seven years old._

_Edwin snickered as George reluctantly stood to go after and apprehend Derek._

_"Wait, George," Casey said, pushing her chair back from the table. "I'll go."_

_George and Nora looked at her like a savior and a very mature young woman, respectively. _

"_Are you sure, Case?" Nora asked._

"_Yeah, I'm sure," Casey sighed, rising to her feet and following her stepbrother's trail, a knot rising in her stomach. The guilt that had made her so adamant about going to talk to him dissipated about the time she put her foot on the top stair. _You can do this, Case. It's only stupid Derek. Just apologize and leave.

_She knocked on his door once before opening it and going in. _

"_Some people learn by example, Princess," Derek growled from where he sat on his bed, headphones blasting in his ears._

"_Are you gonna be okay?" Casey asked. She hadn't meant to ask it; her intention, when she had opened her mouth, had been to counter his statement with something wittier, but her concern had just slipped out._

_Derek looked at her with shuttered eyes. "Duh?" He tried to make it sound like it was obvious that he was going to be perfectly all right. "Why are you here?"_

"_You really liked her, huh?" Casey asked softly, revealing that she knew the truth about who had broken up with whom._

_Derek let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, right."_

_Casey frowned at his cruel behavior. He couldn't _really_ feel so unattached to the girl he had spent the last year dating; could he? "Derek, you _can_ admit you're in pain sometimes."_

_Derek raised an eyebrow, finally pulling out his headphones. "Really? Thanks for that bulletin. I thought I had to be Mr. Macho all the time, but since you said that, I know I can go get my tub of ice cream and watch my favorite chick flick without people judging me."_

"_Sarcasm isn't going to help you," Casey remarked._

"_Casey, I know you're not used to _manly_ men--obviously." He gestured at the necklace around her neck; she happened to have gotten it from Sam the week before. "But we don't cry like little girls after a breakup."_

"_At least _Sam_ knows how to admit his feelings," Casey snapped, clutching her necklace defensively._

"_Whatever. Just get out. I don't want to talk to you." Derek sat up and pointed at the door as his eyes filled with that pained, hateful look again, and Casey's resolve strengthened._

"_No. You need to talk to someone about this. I know I'm not your . . . _ideal_ choice for a confidante, but I listen--" Derek let out a snort of derisive laughter, and Casey hesitated before continuing. "You seem really upset."_

"_Trust me; I'm not." Derek's hands reaching up to pop his collar, something they only did when he was flustered, belied this statement._

_"Derek, I know I was kind of mean at dinner, but--"_

"_You really think I care?" Derek's mocking smile was almost grimace-like._

"_You got up and left," Casey stated point-blank, trying to hide her confusion; she could never determine when he was being genuine._

"_I _left_ because I didn't want to talk about this because _you're_ making a big, stupid deal about it," Derek snarled._

"_You sound like a little kid, and I know you care because you looked--" Casey stopped speaking, realizing that she hadn't come up to apologize at all; she'd come to find out if he really hated her the way his eyes said he did. She met his irritated gaze, her arms forming a protective cross over her abdomen. _

"_I looked . . ." Derek prompted gruffly._

_Casey turned away. "You just . . . you looked really mad, and I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," she finished hurriedly._

_He was silent for a moment, stare burning into her back. "That's stupid," he declared finally, reclining on his bed._

_She swiveled to look at him, finding his expression to have changed. He looked contemplative and the tiniest bit depressed. "Why is it stupid?"_

"_You know I don't have 'feelings'," Derek replied as if it was obvious. "And even if I did, anything _you_ said wouldn't affect them."_

_Casey did a quick mental calculation, weighing the odds of him opening up to her if she voiced her insecurities. _Very low. Give up_ logic told her, but the idea was stuck, and she couldn't resist. "Want to know why I really came up here?" she queried, trying to make the reason sound as interesting as possible._

_Surprisingly, Derek appeared intrigued, but his dry, "No." overrode the expression. Casey's put out look must have shown because an amused gleam briefly entered his eyes before he stifled it. _

"_Well, I'll tell you anyway," Casey offered, sitting down in his desk chair. _

_Derek rolled his eyes and put in his headphones, receiving an indignant look from her. "I _told_ you I didn't want to know," he explained roguishly._

_Casey's eyes clouded with distress. "Do you hate me?" she asked abruptly._

_Derek's gaze, which had been wandering, snapped to her. "What kind of question is that?" he demanded, looking even more livid than he had at dinner._

"_A serious one, Derek!" Casey barked, nose tingling with impending tears._

"_Why does it matter? If I say yes, you're just going to be the same, annoying princess," Derek pointed out._

"_So, that's a yes?" Casey asked, voice thickening._

"_Ye--" Derek winced when he saw the tears swimming in her eyes. "No. It's just hypotherical."_

"_Hypothetical," Casey corrected automatically. "And I was asking for a _real_ answer." _

"_I don't see what the point is." Derek stared at her, something like panic in his eyes, as if he was afraid of what he might say._

"_You're stalling!" Casey sprang up from the seat, tears spilling over the rims of her eyes as she started to pace. "God, Derek! I knew we weren't close or anything, but I didn't think you _hated_ me!"_

_Derek was gaping openly now, unsure of what to do. "Casey," he said seriously, his tone drawing her full attention. He slid his legs over the side of the bed and set his feet on the floor. "I . . ." He exhaled in exasperation. "Whatever you think about me--that's what I think about you."_

_He seemed sincere, his eyes showing no light of laughter or shadow of mischief, but then again, he'd always been a good liar. Casey sniffled, looking much like a little girl, with her red nose, rosy cheeks, and big, watery eyes. "You--you think I'm a self-centered, obnoxious, primitive slob?" she asked, half-joking and half-wondering._

_Derek cracked a slight smirk, though something _essential_ to the authenticity of that visage seemed to have died. "No, I think you're a stuck-up, needy, preppy keener Princess, who can't keep her nose out of other people's business." The malevolent gloom in his eyes returned, making his insults more scathing._

_Instead of reacting with tears, her feelings on a roller coaster that dropped from unhappy to enraged, Casey glowered at him. "I was just trying to help you because I thought you might feel _something_ over your stupid breakup!" she spat. "Next time, I won't even _bother_!"_

_"Yeah, _don't_!" Derek rejoined hotly, standing so he was eye to eye with her. "Just mind your own business!"_

_"Maybe you should focus on _keeping_ girlfriends instead of how _I_ react when one of them breaks up with you!" Casey retorted, taking an involuntary step closer. "Just because you jump anything with breasts--"_

_"You think Kendra broke up with me because I _cheated_ on her?" Derek laughed acerbically, his face inching ever closer to Casey's. "She got jealous because she thought I _might_ be thinking about someone else. You know how retarded that is; right?"_

_"Actu--"_

_"Oh wait! Miss Preppy would do the _same, exact_ thing, wouldn't she? Don't try and help me with this, Princess; you're the enemy."_

_"_I'm_ the enemy!? Kendra and I don't go around picking random guys to hump and dump! If you ask me--"_

_"You know what? I _didn't_ ask you, so shut up," Derek sneered._

_Casey's jaw dropped, and she shoved him away, full force, with both hands. "Don't tell me to shut up!"_

_A spark flashed in Derek's eyes, and he grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back until she hit the wall. "Don't tell me what to do," he rasped into her face, lips hovering above hers, warm, moist, and sucking the resistance out of her._

_Casey narrowed her eyes, bothered by her lack of authority over the turn of events, and pressed her hands against his chest. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if you _did_ hate me, because I _loathe_ you right now."_

_"Good. Maybe you'll start leaving me alone," Derek muttered, eyes darkened past odium and to something else entirely._

_"And maybe I _won't_," Casey bit back, chest heaving. Derek's hair, quite long and deliciously mussed, in spite of the haircut he had gotten recently, brushed the bridge of her nose, making her more than aware of just how close they were standing. She was suddenly very fretful, feeling as though something awful or dangerous was about to happen. _

_Derek must have felt this, too, for his expression changed yet again, and he loosened his hold on her. "You should stay away from me." Casey watched him, mildly exhilarated. "For your own good," he concluded brusquely, seeming to be memorizing the contours of her face with his unreadable eyes before he retreated to the other side of the room._

_Casey shrugged off the electricity that permeated her body. "Is that supposed to be a threat?" she tested sharply, her voice tight._

_Derek wouldn't look her in the eye. He shook his hair out of his face and strode back to his bed, carelessly collapsing on it and casting an apathetic, "Get out." in her direction before putting in his headphones and turning his CD player up to an ear-piercing screech; he happened to be listening to heavy metal._

_Casey examined him carefully, hoping he would open up, go against everything he stood for and have a heart, but he paid no attention to her at all; she was invisible. Feeling snubbed and aggravated, she lingered only a moment longer before fleeing the room, banging the door shut on her way out._

_"And don't talk to me when you're PMSing!" _

Somehow expectedly, those had been the last, non-generic words he had said to her until he pulled his prank. Things were definitely starting to get hectic, and Casey had a feeling they would only get worse.

**A/N: The Dennis/Natalie conflict has not been dropped, in case any of you were wondering. I just figure Casey would be focusing more on herself than others at a time like this. I hope you enjoyed the last two chapters, and I implore you to review. **


	5. Looking Up

**A/N: You guys are so wonderful, even after I didn't update for months. I just love you all! -squee- **

**As of 5-31-07, this fic is AU to any episode following "It's Our Party." We'll just pretend Max was only a fleeting crush Casey had, and Derek didn't break up with Kendra. Also, since Max is on the football team, presumably as one of the important team members, and since I have no idea what position he plays, we'll assume that he is _not_ the team captain. 'Kay?**

**Avast! There be swearing in this here chapter. No really; I find that high school boys swear like sailors these days, and since Derek and Casey **_**are**_** in high school . . . **

**Just be aware that you've been forewarned.**

**Also, this chapter's slightly longer than the others, to make up for the relatively long wait I put you through before posting it. Since it's so long, and I wanted to post it before I go to Nebraska, I only glanced over it after I finished writing, so if you see any glaring mistakes, please let me know; I'll fix them ASAP. Enjoy.**

Looking Up

"He just wanted to tell me I should eat something because I look like a Holocaust victim." Casey wasn't going to telling Emily about the rest of her conversation with Derek, whether or not the girl was practically in love with him; she hadn't even been up to calling back for about an hour after Derek had exited and she had endured her unnerving flashback.

"Oh . . . Listen, Casey . . . I probably overreacted about the kiss," Emily asserted. "And I'm sorry."

Casey was speechless for a moment, puzzled by her friend's newfound sympathy, which had so unexpectedly replaced her previously adamant suspicion. "I--well, I mean, it really wasn't that big of a deal," she blustered, not wanting to offend her best friend by telling her that she thought her assumptions about the mistletoe mistake had been utterly idiotic.

"I was just jealous; you know?" Emily's desperation for forgiveness caused Casey to brood in suspicion.

"Yeah, I understand," she muttered. "Em, I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore, but what . . . what changed your mind so . . . suddenly?" In the end, curiosity prevailed.

Emily let out a nervous laugh. "Nothing!" she responded unconvincingly. "I just came to my senses."

"Emily," Casey sighed, sick of being mislead and maltreated.

"Okay," Emily capitulated. "But you can't tell him I told you."

"Who?" Casey inquired, now even more perplexed.

"_Derek_," Emily whispered dramatically, as if Derek would hear her spilling this supposed secret if she spoke too loudly.

"Derek?" Casey echoed, befuddled.

"He called me," Emily continued, sounding excited.

Casey blinked in shock. "He did? _Why_?"

"Well, he said he thought I looked upset at school today, and he told me that the whole mistletoe thing meant nothing and he was sorry I got hurt--isn't that sweet?" Emily said this in one breath, and Casey barely caught all of it.

She distractedly agreed that it was, indeed, "sweet" of Derek to have called to check up on a girl he wasn't even attracted to; she mentally added that it was also very dubious.

"But you can't tell him you know he called," Emily repeated. "He said something about you making him leave me alone," she added laughingly.

"I won't tell him," Casey assured her. She glanced at her computer, realizing that it was rounding nine o'clock, and she still had to put the final touches on two of the following Monday's assignments. "Hey, it's kind of late, and I still have some homework to finish, so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Oh, yeah. No problem. Can't forget about homework." Emily's tone suggested she had done just that, though probably for projects that were due that week, as opposed to the next. "See ya."

"Bye." Casey hung up, slumping into her pillows. Why had Derek _really_ called Emily? She knew him too well to believe that it was because he had been concerned. _"You already messed everything up."_ She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. _Maybe this doesn't have anything to do with Emily._ Why this revelation of possibility sent a shiver down her spine, she was unwilling to ponder. Instead, she shrugged off the feeling and focused on the hunger gnawing at her insides. _I guess it's possible that I_ don't_ eat enough . . ._

She cautiously peered out of her room to make sure Derek's door was closed, so she wouldn't have to see him or hear his snarky remarks. Relief flooded her when she saw the **Keep Out** sign, and she padded down the hall and descended the stairs.

Her heart skipped a beat when she entered the kitchen and spotted Derek lounging against the island, facing the sink, while he inhaled a piece of cold pizza. He glanced over his shoulder upon hearing her sharp intake of breath. They fleetingly locked gazes, his a stare of vacuity and hers one of proud indifference, before she strutted across the room.

"Taking my advice, huh?" Derek teased around his mouthful as he watched her rifle through the fridge.

"_No_," she responded matter-of-factly. "I'm hungry, so I'm eating. It has nothing to do with you."

"_Ah_." Derek nodded sarcastically.

Casey pulled a loaf of bread and a jar of organically-grown peanut butter, the smell of which Derek was practically unable to tolerate, from one of the lower shelves and straightened, deftly closing the door with her foot.

"So, did you call Emily back?" Derek questioned conversationally as she brushed past him and set her ingredients on the counter.

"What? Did you forget you don't care?" she snapped, slamming the silverware drawer after she had pulled the necessary butter knife from its depths, sounding irritated though she was actually amused that he had the gall to ask and pleased that she now knew that _he_ had known that Emily would tell her he phoned; it made it much easier to determine his motive.

Derek quirked an eyebrow at her. "No, I'm just really, _really_ bored. Quick, entertain me with your girly gossip," he ordered with a contemptuous glare.

"Well, if you have to know, I did call her back, but we didn't talk about anything girly _or_ gossipy. Sorry." She pouted at him mordantly, moving to one of the cupboards and reaching up to grab a plate. She nearly dropped it when she noticed Derek's eyes on her, burning into her; he obviously thought this tactic was going to get her to say more. _Fat chance._

"Careful, Klutzilla," he quipped, swallowing his last bite and proceeding to lick is fingers, lazy gaze still glued to her.

Casey merely rolled her eyes, both in response to his insults and his gross eating habits. _At least he's back to normal._ She couldn't decide if this was a good or bad thing. Disregarding Derek's all-too-critical stare, she forced her hands to stop shaking and put them to work making her sandwich.

Both teens looked up when the basement door opened and Nora entered with a basket of clean clothing. She smiled at them in a surprised way when she noticed them standing around the island. "Well it's nice to see you two aren't fighting," she commented, separating the colors from the whites casually. They didn't respond, but Nora didn't seem to mind. "By the way, I really appreciate you guys putting up with game night," she continued cordially. "I know you're probably too old for it."

Casey smiled brightly. "Beating Derek was worth it," she assured her mom, shooting Derek a spiteful look.

Derek chuckled scathingly. "Is _that_ what you call it?" he goaded, urged to go on by Casey's raised eyebrow. "I wouldn't care if you 'beat' me all day."

"Gross," Edwin commented when he came in from the dining area, making a B-line for the snack cupboard.

"Edwin!" Nora scolded, while Casey and Derek maintained awkward silence.

"What? _Derek_ said it," Edwin defended innocently.

Nora shook her head, hastily changing the subject. "You gave Casey the money; right, Derek?"

"Uh, yeah," Derek replied, calmly averting his eyes when Casey sent him a questioning look. Nora had never trusted him, and she undoubtedly thought he was a bad influence on Casey; by now he was used to, and fairly fond of, the notion.

Casey swallowed heavily, tearing her eyes from her stepbrother to look at her mother. "What money?"

Nora looked up from the laundry. "The money for the coat," she said as if it was self-explanatory. Seeing her daughter's blank look, she rounded on her stepson. "_Derek_?" It was more of a warning than a question.

Derek sighed and reached into his shirt pocket, carelessly tossing the money on the plate in front of Casey. Edwin snickered, and Derek roughly ruffled his hair.

"Dude!" Edwin exclaimed, running from the room to go fix his dark, curly locks.

Casey furiously stared at Derek, who was busy laughing at his brother, as she snatched up the cash. "I can't believe you were going to keep all this!" she cried, quickly counting the bills. "This is _my_ money!" She violently shoved his shoulder, coming too close for comfort.

"Casey!" Nora gasped, astonished by her daughter's behavior; she had always been appalled by the immaturity her oldest brother brought out in her.

Derek backed away, unspoken trepidation in his eyes. "Sixty bucks? What's not to believe?" he scoffed, leaving the room without so much as a backwards glance.

"Let him go," Nora advised, hoping the fire in her daughter's eyes would flicker out. "I'll have George deal with him tomorrow."

Casey pocketed the money, exhaling deeply. "He's such a jerk," she huffed, grabbing her sandwich and taking an angry bite.

Nora nodded in silent understanding. _Why can't they just get along?_ She was disappointed that the teens' neutral spell had lasted only months before turmoil was restored.

---

"Derek, hurry up!" Casey hollered at the locked bathroom door, beating her closed hand against it. Derek, who'd occupied the cell for more than forty-five minutes already, began whistling, absolutely content with being effectively irksome. "Why couldn't you've just had morning practice like yesterday?" Casey whined loudly before another round of fist-banging. Derek belted out a jolly tune, laughter barely contained. "_DER_-EK!" Casey's pitch rose to an acutely penetrating shriek.

"Derek!" George rebuked from the level below.

With a grudging sigh, Derek unlocked the door and opened it, a smug grin on his face, for he was still blocking Casey's way by bracing himself against the doorframe with his arms. "You know, it takes time to look _this_ good," he declared, carelessly flaunting himself.

Casey's breath caught in her throat when he stepped into view; he really did look more striking (in a refined sort of way) than usual._ What's the occasion?_ she wondered silently as she surveyed his combed--but appropriately tousled--hair, his trademark, layered look--cotton tee over a thermal shirt, with the sleeves pushed up just enough to expose the tiniest bit of sinewy skin beneath--showing off his hockey-toned body, his perfectly molded lips pulled back into that agonizingly tempting smirk. Drawing a line of discretion, as the wayward turn of her thoughts, all of which occurred within a millisecond, dawned on her, Casey let a satirical raise of the eyebrow initiate her response. "If only you put as much time into _graduating_ from school as you do trying to look good for it," she mourned. "Now, move." She stepped forward, intent on jostling him, if necessary.

"Ah ah ah." Derek stopped her, confidently placing his hands on her waist. "Not so fast, Princess."

Casey's cheeks flamed. "Ugh! Stop calling me that, and let me go!" she barked, vehemently putting her hands on his forearms, skin stinging where his touch seared through the cloth of her flannel pajamas.

Derek's smirk lost its sincerity as he tensed up, muscles flexing beneath her fingers and vulnerability accenting the challenge in his eyes. "Or what?" he intoned throatily.

Again, Casey was caught speechless, standing there, staring into the enemy's eyes, with him staring back expectantly. Electricity made the air spark between them, causing their fingertips to tingle almost painfully, though neither was willing to let go first. Oxygen had turned to lead, making every breath a hurdle. Casey was distinctly reminded of the seconds before the mistletoe incident, this memory jolting her psyche into disarray. Upset by her lack of control--over herself or otherwise--she pushed his arms off her and spun away from him. "You are such an ass!" she yelled as she strode back to her room, haunted by the mocking chuckle that stalked after her.

---

By the time Casey had cooled off, Derek was already downstairs having a very audible burping contest with Edwin. Casey rolled her eyes and entered the bathroom, ignoring the lingering scent of Derek's deodorant. Knowing she had to be at school on time--meaning early--she sped through her shower routine, emerging from the steamy chamber in ten minutes flat. She felt rejuvenated and had decided to be positive, no matter what classmates or Derek said about or to her.

Casey's blow-dried hair, pulled into a sleek ponytail, swung at her shoulder blades, catching the light in the kitchen when she entered. Derek, the only person left at the island, looked up, and a muscle in his jaw twitched, catching her notice. She shifted her gaze from his flawless physique and silently toasted some bread, sulky scowl in place. Just as he had the night before, Derek watched her intently as she fixed her food, and she was proud of how easily she was cold-shouldering him and his tiresome presence.

When she sat down across from him with her plate, Derek thumped his empty glass on the surface of the island and thrust himself out of his chair. "You're getting fat," he tossed over his shoulder meanly, purposely bumping into her and adjourning to the neighboring room.

Casey's jaw dropped so an indignant gasp could better escape her lips. She glared daggers at him before looking down at her plate. "Am not," she grumbled, rebelliously shoving a large bite of toast into her mouth. Of course, underneath her easily-offended temperament, there was also the knowledge that she had gotten to him, for she clearly remembered his contradicting statement about her starved appearance the night before.

---

"I wanna watch cartoons!" Marti was squealing when Casey complacently entered the living room after her breakfast. Derek had the remote held high over his head and was watching the reruns of an old soap opera, in which he was clearly not interested. "SMEREK!"

Marti's voice was reaching an almost unbearable timbre, so Casey took the initiative and pulled the remote from Derek's somewhat lax hand, passing it to her stepsister. "Play nice," she warned the two Venturis, with a glance at Derek's displeased physiognomy, before pulling on a thick, pink, hooded sweatshirt, picking up her backpack, and slipping out the front door, much preferring the bitter weather to her stepbrother's presence.

_I _must_ be running late_ Casey thought immediately upon seeing Emily, who had only been at school early the day before to watch the hockey team practice, just leaving her house. "Em!" Casey picked up her pace when Emily stopped and turned around.

"You're running late," Emily commented when her friend reached her, and they began walking toward J.S. Thompson High.

"I know," Casey sighed. "Derek was hogging the bathroom. It's like he's on some personal mission to make my life a living hell."

Emily was about to respond, but a loud, "Hey!" from behind them caused her curly-haired head to swivel around so she could see who was calling.

"It's Derek! We should wait for him," Emily declared enthusiastically.

_Speak of the devil . . . literally._ "No, we really shouldn't," Casey replied dryly, halting only when Emily linked their arms and held her in place.

"Hello, Emily," Derek greeted suavely, throwing his arms around both girls' shoulders and pulling Casey closer than necessary, just to irk her.

"Hey, Derek," Emily responded breathlessly as they continued their trek.

"What do you want?" Casey snapped, shrugging his arm off, her ponytail whipping in the wind.

"What? I can't walk to school with my friend and my . . ." Derek paused, eyeing Casey in his now familiar, pained sort of way. ". . . sister?" He practically choked on the word, and Casey felt a pang of annoyance at the fact that he couldn't accept her as friend, much less a part of his family.

"No," she answered readily, overlooking Emily's covert, pleading glances.

"Says who?" Derek challenged, intentionally sliding his arm down to Emily's waist, much to the latter's excitement and Casey's fury.

She was spared making up a reason for him to leave by a passing SUV, full of jocks from their school. The driver pulled over to the wrong side of the road to let Derek get in. Casey's grateful look evaporated when she recognized the boy gripping the wheel as Chad Michaels, the second most aggravating person she knew; he had been one of the few students that refused to drop the grade grubber joke, even after a year had passed.

Derek waved in acknowledgement and dropped his arm, after watching Casey's eyes follow its trail when he moved it slightly lower. He directed a cream-filled, Cheshire cat grin at her as he hopped in, stimulated by the enraged look she shot back. As the vehicle drove away, he rolled down the window, stuck his head out, and yelled, "Hey, Em, lookin' good today!" before the other boys, complaining about the cold, yanked him back in.

As soon as the car turned the corner, Emily clutched a fuming Casey's arm, all but screaming her titillation. "Omigod, Casey! Derek just said I look good!"

"I know," Casey said, voice completely lacking in emotion as she resumed walking.

Emily frowned, letting go of Casey's arm. "You think he's just trying to mess with you, like last year; don't you?" She didn't give Casey a chance to voice her answer, let alone defend it, before she barked, "It's not always about you, Casey. Maybe Derek's just starting to realize what a great catch I am!" Her voice wavered on the last note.

Casey's lips curved downward with pity. "Do you really believe that?"

Emily was defiant for only a moment before she looked her friend directly in the eye and exhaled dejectedly. "No."

Her face fell, and Casey wrapped a consoling arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Em. You'll get over him," she consoled. _Hopefully._

---

"Dude, Emily Davis? _Nice_," the goalie of the hockey team commented snidely from the rear of the truck when the window was sealed shut.

"Casey sabotage," Derek explained simply, sitting back in his seat. _Talk about a tense morning._ _Of course, if I hadn't been so turned on by her damn bed-hair--_

"Yeah, but _Davis_? She's a total loser," the football team's linebacker noted.

Derek almost defended his first real girl friend but squelched the urge and rolled his eyes. "Casey doesn't like it when I 'chase' her friends. Some overprotective crap or something. Whatever, ya know? As long as it pisses her off."

"Sounds like Grubby's jealous," Chad announced mockingly. "That's hot." This addition, disturbingly enough, was not in jest.

Derek faked a gag around the thrill the idea sent whizzing through him. "Dude, I dunno what you're into, but I would hate to be your sister."

Chad's voice seemed harsher when he next spoke, pushing Derek to the recollection that the football captain did, in fact, _have_ a sister. _Whoops._ "Come on; you already kissed her, and she's fuckin' hot under those preppy-ass clothes. Why not take it a step further?" he reasoned, taking a sharp turn around a corner.

"We're step_siblings_. That's why," Derek growled tersely, clutching the leather seat beneath him for support. His blood boiled; Chad had no right to be talking about Casey--_his Casey_--like she was a sirloin steak waiting to be devoured. What kind of guy talked about another guy's supposed sister like that, anyway, especially to that guy's face?

Chad snickered, eliciting a similar response from the other passengers. Shrugging, he said, "She's into you, Venturi. Suck it up, and tap that already."

Thankfully, they arrived at the school at that moment, or Derek may have resolved to deck the driver, whether or not it got the lot of them killed. The instant the SUV came to a stop, he threw open the door and jumped out, too pissed off to counter Chad's last statement. Maybe his anger was stemmed from the fact that he hated when people were right about him, especially about him and the things he wished to keep utterly unattached to his public life, and especially when "people" happened to be very popular senior Chad Michaels, who could ruin a reputation with no more than a frown in someone's general direction.

Derek stormed into the building, features twisted with rage until he remembered his exceedingly important resolution for the day, the one that didn't involve annoying Casey to no end: pick up a girlfriend--or five. Quite frankly, he didn't care which or how many girls he dated, as long as they proffered the needed distraction, which certain conflicts among "family" made essential. After all, Derek Venturi didn't _suffer_ from unresolved sexual frustration; he gave it to people.

Under this creed, he was looking better than ever, a fresh smile adorning his lips, primed for the ladies to flock about him, and so they did. By the end of first period, he had a swarm of girls trailing after him, another bunch indiscreetly ogling from the sidelines, a couple discarded possibilities (the few that had been bold enough to approach Derek but had been turned down) mourning their loss, and a select few (each desperate enough to settle for being one of several) hanging off his arms and smiling as though they had already won the so-called competition. In a way, they had, for Derek fully intended to take each of them on a "unique" date (using a "loan" from Edwin, of course) and woo them with his irresistible charm, thus giving himself the right to relieve his "nonexistent" sexual frustrations in the backseat of his dad's car.

Derek's smirk landed on an irritable-looking Sam, who walked up to him, bringing him and his posse to an abrupt stop. "Derek, we need to talk."

"What, are we breaking up?" Derek joked, shoving his best friend's shoulder in the manner so typical to guys of their age. The girls who understood the quip giggled.

Sam looked at him steadily. "Dude," he entreated grimly.

Derek, unsettled by the other boy's tone, briefly glanced at his entourage to see the reaction this discourse was getting before excusing himself with a flattering, "Ladies." and continuing to his locker alongside Sam; the girls were left to swoon.

Sam wordlessly leaned against a locker next to Derek's, folding his arms across his broad chest.

"What?" Derek demanded when a few tense moments had ebbed away, dropping his combination lock and facing his friend, who looked ready to boil over.

After a beat, Sam broke, knitting his bushy brows. "What is your damage?" Derek cocked his head in impatient confusion. "You kissed Casey!"

"Ugh!" Derek hastily turned back to his locker. "I don't see why everyone's making such a big deal about this! First, Casey and Emily; now y--"

"Of _course_ Casey's making a big deal about it! You _kissed_ her! That's wrong on so many lev--"

"Okay, first," Derek interrupted, pulling his lock open and raising his forefinger to further silence Sam's tirade. "_She_ ran into _me_ when I was under the mistle-crap, and _second_, it's just a kiss. They happen _all_ the time--"

"Not between siblings!"

"_Step_siblings, thanks," Derek corrected, peering into his locker as if there was something more interesting than books and uncompleted assignments in its confines. Sam gave him a curious look as he continued and pulled his head out of the metal box. "And besides, you're just pissed off because you broke up with her again. It's not _my_ fault you wanted to go on your stupid trip with--"

"Derek!" Casey's angry voice rang out as she power-walked toward the boys. Derek smirked when he noticed the flick of her eyes toward the ceiling over his head. When she reached them, she made sure to utter and quick and bashful, "Hi, Sam." before getting in Derek's face. "Leave. Emily. Alone. I'm completely serious. You're going to hurt her, and if you do, I'll make you pay."

Derek moved his face closer to hers, conscious of Sam's vexed aura. "Is that a threat?" he queried, flashing his teeth.

Casey met this challenging allusion with a glare of concrete. "_Yes_, it is, so stop using her. Be original and annoy me another way." With that, she spun on her heel and started in the opposite direction.

"Uh, Casey, I need to talk to you," Sam called tentatively.

Casey acknowledged him with an unceremonious wave of her hand, tossing out a, "Later, 'kay?"

Derek looked at Sam pseudo-sympathetically, emitting a rude, scoffing noise. "Nice," he commented sarcastically before slamming his locker shut and advancing toward his stepsister, while obnoxiously crooning, "Oh, _Princess_, I'm coming to _annoy_ you!" This received a laugh from a couple peers, the scattered few that found Derek and Casey's daily spats entertaining and were relieved to see them back in play.

Sam felt the tiniest twinge of jealousy when Derek sidled up to Casey and put his arm around her, causing her to hunch her shoulders in discomfort. There was something about their playful, antagonistic manner of interaction that was easily envied, yet easy to do without.

---

Casey was penning, in neat handwriting, the notes the class was supposed to be taking, absentmindedly running the pad of her thumb over her lower lip, which stuck out slightly as she frowned in concentration.

Derek, who was currently entranced with the unconscious action, had bugged her all the way to their shared English class, finally ceasing this torment when the aged teacher had slouched his way into the room, droning about how the students were to sit down and shut up, at which point Derek had plopped down in his desk, a row to the left and one seat behind Casey's.

He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and turned with a start to face the pretty blonde in the chair behind him.

"Write to me," she mouthed at him, gesturing to the piece of paper on his desk.

He grinned at the girl and held up a finger to indicate that she was to wait for his correspondence. Turning around, he eyed his one sheet of paper, which was headed with the title of the notes but blank otherwise. He happened to have gotten it and his lain-aside pencil from the keener to his left, since he was, as usual, far from prepared for class. Sporting a mischievous grin at his sudden idea, he moved the tip of the pencil to the first line of the paper.

Casey gasped as something solid crashed into the back of her head and clattered to the floor. She looked down to see it was a normal, wood pencil, now rolling to a stop underneath her chair. She spun her head around and glared at Derek (the likely suspect), who ingenuously tossed a folded (crumpled) piece of paper her way and looked back at the busty bimbo behind him with a smirk.

Intrigued, Casey pulled the note open, rubbing the spot on her head where she'd been hit.

**princess spacey**

**i need paper + i need that pencil back**

Casey pursed her lips and jotted a response before reaching under her desk to get Derek's painful pencil. Making sure the teacher was facing the chalkboard, she reached back and handed the note and writing device to her stepbrother, stomach clenching when their fingers struck one another.

Satisfied by his success, Derek unfolded the now pristinely creased paper.

_No. Leave me alone. You have paper. Why do you need more?_

_DON'T throw that pencil at me again, dumbass._

Derek stifled a satisfied chuckle, his pencil attack having gotten the response he'd wanted; he hadn't thrown it very hard, but he had known even the gentlest smack would instigate a conflict. He scribbled on the paper and reached forward to give it to Casey when the coast appeared clear.

**this is NOTE paper** He had drawn a curvy line up to the heading.** i cant right 2 kelsy on this--especialy after i wrote 2 u please give me sum?**

**and i didnt even throw it that hard**

Casey rolled her eyes.

_Great note taking skills, __Der__. You can't even spell "write" right. I don't think this is the best way to talk CARY into letting you in her "pantz." What part of no don't you get?_

_It still hurt, stupid._

**I can write right if I want to. See? i just dont feel like it i get the no part--i just wont take it as an anser come on help ur big bro**

**it was just a pencil**

_At least use punctuation so I can read what you're writing, and you're NOT my "big bro." That would mean there's some genetic link, and I'd rather die than have your idiot genes. _

_It was just a flying piece of wood that hit me in the head? Oh, I guess it's okay then._

**idiot genes? are u calling marti and edwin idiots? think about all the times i helped u case.**

**its not that bad jeez**

_Marti and Edwin were blessed with SOME intelligence--unlike __you__. All the times you helped me . . . Hmm. Like the time you threw a pencil at me?_

Derek sighed and shoved the note in his pocket, resigned to leaning over and asking the boy to his left for paper.

---

"Derek is so stupid," Casey growled when she met Emily at their lockers before third period.

"Newsflash, Case. You've been saying that since you met him," Emily pointed out laughingly; apparently, she really didn't maintain any misgivings about the mistletoe mishap.

"That doesn't make it any less true," Casey bit back, dropping her book in her anger.

"What'd he do this time?" Emily asked, seeing that her friend needed a good rant.

"He kept bugging me in English, and I missed half the notes we were supposed to be taking. He wanted paper so he could write to Cary Vasser or something, but he already _had_ paper. I wish he would just leave me alone."

"But weren't you really confused when he _wasn't_ bugging you?"

"What?" Casey's eyes widened; she hadn't let on to anyone how much Derek's passivity irked her.

"I asked why Derek was going after Cary. She's totally not his type. It's gonna bug me all day," Emily reiterated, giving Casey a questioning look.

"Oh . . . Well, she _is_ blonde and big-breasted. That might have something to do with it," Casey theorized scornfully, brushing off what she thought she had heard.

"But she's too ditzy for him. I mean, he usually dates girls with _some_ substance." Emily pouted, probably wishing she was the blonde in question.

"Yeah, usually," Casey agreed distractedly as she noticed Sam coming her way. She really didn't want to talk to him; the awkward ex-factor was raging between them now, and it didn't help that she was already having a horrible day.

"Hi, Casey," he greeted when he got to her, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh. Hi, Sam," Casey replied, sounding surprised, as if she hadn't see him coming.

"Hey, Em." Sam nodded at Emily.

"Hey, Sam." Emily paused, sensing the tension surrounding the former couple. "I'm gonna . . . head to class. See ya later, Casey." She shuffled to her biology class, leaving Casey wincing behind her locker door.

"So, uh, how've you been?" Sam asked nervously.

_Awful._ "All right. You?" Casey put another book in her bag.

"Uh, pretty good . . ." There was an uncomfortable lapse in conversation while Casey finished getting her books, closed her locker, and then turned to face Sam. "I heard about yesterday," Sam preempted gauchely, trying to stall the impending farewell.

Casey colored slightly, quickly breaking eye contact to focus on the clasp of her bag. "Already, huh? I, um--"

"You don't have to explain or anything. I just want you to know that I'm, uh, here . . . if you need to talk . . . or something." Sam put on a grimace-like smile.

"Aw, Sam, that's really sweet," Casey cooed, truly grateful to have at least one understanding friend; if she could help it, she would never discuss the incident with Emily ever again.

"Yeah . . . Case, I have something I need to--"

Sam was cut off by the warning bell ringing to alert students that they needed to get to class or face possible detention. He sighed, wanting to get his declaration out as soon as possible.

"We'll talk later, okay?" Casey started to walk away, but she halted and turned to face her ex-boyfriend. "Sam!" Sam looked back at her expectantly. "Thanks." She offered him a genuine smile, the first she'd given since Saturday.

He smiled back and waved goodbye before going to class.

_Maybe things'll turn out okay_ Casey thought to herself, feeling loads better than before. Things were definitely looking up.

**A/N: For those of you who didn't guess, Chad is what I named the guy who constantly tormented Casey for being a grade grubber in "Grade-Point: Average." That way, I don't have to claim him as an OC (It's way too easy to have too many of those.), though I do own his name and his role in this fic. Granted, he didn't look like popular guy material in the episode, but we'll just say he got a lot cuter--and cut his hair, we would hope--over the year that's elapsed since then. Review if you like.**


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